


no such thing as ordinary, love.

by keyt_scrat



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Jokes, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyt_scrat/pseuds/keyt_scrat
Summary: Ermal teaching Fabri English (but not really)





	no such thing as ordinary, love.

After the initial high wore off and they were left alone in a hotel room - matching grins, glitter in the hair, a little golden lion clasped between them - they opened the bottles of wine that were left after the celebration and took refuge on their joined balcony. 

Ermal was spread out over a little sofa they brought there a week ago - cigarette hanging from his lips, hands shaking as they try to make his crappy lighter work. Fabrizio - on the other side, in a chair, wrapped in a blanket, legs resting on the balcony railings, already changed into a t-shirt and too-short-sweatpants - pouring the wine into last night's glasses, spilling it on the tile floor.

There was a comfortable tired silence between them, established from the beginning of their partnership. They both immensely valued silence and comfortable working atmosphere and so were able to be quiet for hours, recharging from each other. 

-You know what that means, right? - finally said Ermal.

-Drinking filthy expensive wine on a tiny hotel balcony after the most important event in my life? I don't know, means I finally did something right. - replied Fabrizio passing said wine to Ermal.

-The most important event? You have two children, you fucker. - Ermal flicked his fading cigarette somewhere in the general direction of the ashtray and immediately gulped some wine. - That's not what I'm talking about though. You don't want to stop here, right? I know I don't.

-Do you mean Eurovision? - Ermal rolled his eyes and nodded.-Well I don't care that much but yeah, would be nice to spread the message.

Ermal swung his legs from the end of the sofa and now was sitting in front of Fabrizio - hands linked at knees, white knuckles, subtle smile, piercing stud ominously gleaming from his slightly raised eyebrow.

-And how are you planning to spread that message - he said, clearly having planned that in advance - if you don’t even speak English?

-We're not going to translate the song - quickly said Fabrizio with something resembling fear in his eyes.

-Of course we're not going to translate the song. But there is also the social part. The interviews. The press conferences. God forbid, talking to other people. 

-Well, I don't speak English!

-Fabri, I’m gonna be honest, you don't even speak Italian. But while that's out of our hands, we still can do something about your English.

Fabrizio awkwardly shrugged, burying himself in the blanket, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. Ermal felt a bit of guilt which he became familiar with in the previous months - they both loved to trade innocent insults but while Ermal mostly just said things out loud, quite often without meaning to, Fabrizio would sometimes got stuck on a particularly good jab, turning into something resembling a pouting kitten which shouldn't even look cute on a forty-year old.

-Well you're in luck, aren't you, - said Ermal with far more energy than he had left. -You have a professional by your side,-Fabrizio looked so confused it was insulting - I studied Languages at university? I'm good at English, I can teach you.

The gleaming fear found its way back into Fabrizio's gaze.

-Oh no, that's okay, I'll just download some apps and may be hire a translator.

-An interpreter, - whispered Ermal rising from the sofa and leaning on the balcony railing. -What's the point of spending money if I can just teach you? Or what, you don't trust me? I have a degree.

-Well...Wait, you don't have a degree. Didn't you drop out of Uni your final year? 

Ermal raised his eyebrow at Fabizio's shit-eating grin.

-I can't believe you remember that! It's so inspiring to see old people succeed in something! -He dodged a cigarette butt flying into his face - Anyway, I’m going to sleep since we're flying out early tomorrow. Think about it, Fabri.

Ermal retreated into his room, leaving a grumpy man behind. 

And thus started their three months of concerts, countless interviews, traveling across the country and only seeing each other on phone screens. Ermal took as a habit face timing at completely random times, screeching into his phone "have you practiced your English today?" and delightfully laughing at Fabrizio's unamused expression, his heavy-accented "yes" (how did he manage to say yes with an accent? hopeless, absolutely hopeless). And there, in midnight calls that lasted well into morning hours, in nonstop texting, in harmless teasing, in constant stream of pictures, they have created their own liminal space where for some reason nothing was off limits and you can't really hold someone accountable for the shit they say at 2 AM, can you?

Meeting in Lisbon feels cathartic and grand and life changing even tough they're both exhausted and hungry and people keep trying to speak to Fabrizio in English which he considers insulting.

-So you didn't learn anything - grins Ermal on their way to the hotel - his head on Fabrizio's shoulder, sunglasses sliding down his nose revealing dark under eyes.

-Well I know some things! - stubbornly notices Fabrizio. -like hi and how are you and Italy and..

-I’m so proud, Bizio - Ermal sleepily whispers somewhere near Fabrizio's neck. -I’ll teach you how to say “please vote for us” but only if you cuddle me tonight.

-Are you serious? Don’t you have your own hotel room?

Ermal scoots impossibly closer, wrapping himself in Fabrizio’s leather jacket and letting out a content sigh. 

-We’re starting rehearsals tomorrow. Important. And interviews. Also important. If you think I’ll be able to sleep by myself then you really don’t know me, this friendship was a mistake.

-You needy fuck, -murmurs Fabrizio, but turns to the window, looks at Lisbon silhouette rising in front of them, smiles somewhere in his scarf. 

In the morning they are on a hotel balcony - again, finding themselves in unexplained familiar closeness - again. They are sitting on the floor - this hotel doesn’t have a nice sofa but it does have enormous cups of coffee, which they are sharing, along with one lonely cigarette -they are not supposed to smoke, not before the rehearsal but they pass it to each other, brushing fingers, exchanging soft smiles. 

This is the same situation they find themselves a week later - on a Saturday night, just after the grand final, after adrenalin rush came and went, after giving their all and feeling completely exhausted.

-We’ve got to stop meeting like this, -jokes Ermal nodding at a half-empty bottle of wine between them.

-Never, -murmurs Fabrizio, reaching out and intertwining their fingers, making them stop shaking just for a bit. It’s all nerves.

-All in all, it wasn’t that bad. Got a higher placing than Francesco. Showed true Albanian power. It’s nice. Pity you didn’t learn any English though.

Fabrizio looks up at him, acting offended even though his eyes betray him.

-What are you talking about? I know lots of English!

-Oh yeah, mister “he is inside many many old”?

-Fuck off, it’s just a hard language, doesn’t make any sense to me

-I’m sure.

-Like the “I love you thing” - remarks Fabrizio and his voice becomes even softer and quieter. -They don’t have our “ti amo” and “ti voglio bene”. How are you supposed to know?

-Is that something that concerns you? - jokingly says Ermal but then catches Fabrizio’s gaze - serious and insecure at the same time. He clears his throat at squints at their legs at the wooden balcony floor that somehow ended up intertwined as well. -Well, there is always “I love you” and “I’m in love with you”. There’s a big difference, isn’t it?

-I guess, -whispers Fabrizio and Ermal for the first time notices how still and charged the air is between them, looks over Fabri’s flushed cheeks, his warm warm eyes that keep looking down at his lips.

-That’s handy, isn’t it? - his voice cracks.

-Yeah, -whispers Fabrizio. Ermal leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> i still can't believe Ermal studied languages, what an icon  
> you can send anon hate here - sapphicrussia.tumblr.com  
> the title is from mika's Ordinary Man but was inspired by Dall'alba al tramonto


End file.
